Mullet Man

Today's blog post is a true story contributed by my daughter, who works part time at an area steak house. Enjoy! (And thanks, Bri-Bri!)

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Let me paint you a picture.

Open scene: Me getting ready to put in an order. Out of nowhere enters a man, mid thirties. He has a mullet and an oversized Harley sweatshirt on. He flashes his mother-of-pearl teeth at me. All eight of them.

Mullet Man: 'Scuse me miss?

Me: Yes sir? Can I help you?

Mullet Man: I just realized that I ordered a mashed potatoes AND a baked potato.

Me: Why, yes you did sir, I was there.

Mullet Man: Huh?

Me: Never mind.

Mullet man: Oh um, well my wife is giving me an ear full about having too many potatoes, so instead of a mashed potatoes can I have some steak fries?

Me: *blinks* *cricket cricket*

Mullet Man: Is it too late to change it?

Me: *Realizes he's being completely serious* Oh, yeah, not a problem. You want fries instead of the mashed potatoes?

Mullet Man: Yup. Thank you, miss.

Me: *trying really hard NOT to do an eye roll* Of course, sir. Anything else?

Mullet man: Oh yeah, do you put sugar in your sweet tea?

Me: *walks away.*

See? You can't make crap like that up! It's moments like these that make me fear for the human race.